


the only one for me is you (and you for me)

by soperiso



Category: Fantastic Four, Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Food Fight, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Gay Pride, Idiots in Love, M/M, Pride, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, no pain only soft boys who are in love, point is it's FLUFF, spideytorch - Freeform, this is very soft and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24764452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soperiso/pseuds/soperiso
Summary: “I love you,” Peter gasps, “I really, really love you.”Peter’s heart skips a beat when Johnny looks at him Like That. And by that he means that Johnny looks at him like he’s the universe—like he’s Johnny’s universe—and, God, isn’t that a thought? The depth of his gaze transcends language. It’s something that can’t be said, only felt. And, boy, does Peter feel it.“I really, really love you, too. I love you so much, Peter. So, so much.”Peter smiles—no teeth, but a whole lot of emotion—and says, “Happy Pride, Johnny.”or, Peter bakes Johnny a cake in honor of Pride Month and (naturally) they start a food fight.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Johnny Storm
Comments: 4
Kudos: 74





	the only one for me is you (and you for me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [A_Z_Knight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Z_Knight/gifts).



> thanks, andy, for giving me the prompt that inspired this! the prompt was:
> 
> "Fluff, pride month piece. Incorporate your ideas of pride and identity into it subtly, just two men loving each other."
> 
> the title is from 'happy together' by the turtles.

“Two cups of flower… or was it two and one-quarter? Lemme check,” Peter dusts off the old recipe card and double checks on the measurement. Better safe than sorry, he thinks. He nods to himself and spoons the correct amount of flour into the bowl. 

He wouldn’t normally put so much effort into baking a cake, but this one is special. He wants it to be nice and pretty and actually taste good. It’s for someone who deserves the best of everything, and Peter will be damned if he’d be caught giving him a subpar cake.

Ingredient upon ingredient enters the bowl, all swirling around each other like a frozen whirlpool of salmonella. The cake itself is easy: just plain old vanilla. That step is finished in no time; it’s the frosting that Peter’s worried about. He got the idea off of Pinterest, which has never really worked out for him in the past. He’s positive that he can figure this one out, though. It’s a simple rainbow swirl, which should be manageable so long as Peter doesn’t swirl it too much and end up with a mud-colored monstrosity. 

He spreads vanilla frosting all over the cake and adds drops of food coloring here and there. Toothpick in hand, he carefully swirls the frosting around until the rainbow design takes form. Cheering silently at his success, he gently picks the cake up and places it in a brown paper box that has one of those neat lids that close on the side and fold into the box. He takes a heart sticker—he saw it at the store and couldn’t  _ not  _ buy it—and sticks it on top of the box.

Peter quickly dons his Spidey suit and tucks the box under his arm before jumping out of his window and into the warm New York sky, swinging from building to building and relishing in the press of air on and around him. The city is decorated with rainbows: nearly every billboard has a rainbow  _ something  _ on it. Normally, Peter would complain about how their capitalist overlords were exploiting a month of pride and celebration for their own monetary gain, but today he simply takes time to appreciate the way the streets burst with color. It’s… nice. To see the way that everyone from small businesses to corporate giants can come together behind this one thing. 

“Ah, shit,” He says, realizing that he overshot his destination in his thoughtful haze. He flips a one-eighty and swings up to a window on one of the Baxter Building’s highest floors. 

He sticks his feet to the wall and uses his free hand to knock on the glass, waiting patiently until the window opens to reveal one Johnny Storm.

“Pete?” He asks, his sculpted eyebrows drawing together, “Not that I’m not excited to see your lovely face, but what’re you doing here?”

“I brought you a little something,” Peter says, adjusting the box, “Feel like letting me in?”

Johnny steps back to allow Peter to move into his room.

Peter shivers as the cool air of the building’s AC hits him. Johnny eyes him concernedly, a silent question of  _ you good? _ in his eyes. Why does Johnny think that there has to be something wrong for Peter to come visit him? Yes, there usually is something wrong when Peter shows up at Johnny’s window like this, but he’d still like Johnny to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

Peter opens the box and holds it out to Johnny. “Cake,” he says, taking off his mask and dropping it on the floor.

“For me?” Johnny asks, his lips tugging up into a lopsided smile.

Peter nods. All of a sudden, he gets really worried. This seemed like such a good idea when he was baking the cake, but now? Now he wishes the ground would swallow him whole. Why on earth did he make him a cake? It’s not Johnny’s birthday or anything. Peter’s eyes scrunch shut when Johnny takes the box and opens it. Good lord, he’s going to hate it. He’s gonna smush it in Peter’s face like those clowns do in cartoons and he’s going to break up with him and-

“Pete… did you make this?”

Peter shoots him a pair of uncomfortable finger guns, “You betcha.”

Johnny softly places the cake on his desk and practically lunges at Peter, tackling him in a hug that would’ve absolutely knocked Peter on his ass if not for his strength.

“You… don’t hate it?” Peter asks, reeling.

“Hate it? Are you kidding? God, Pete, you can be real dumb sometimes. It’s perfect.”

Peter smiles, thankful that his dumbass lizard brain had been wrong about Johnny’s reaction. 

“I’ve gotta ask, though,” Johnny begins, stepping back from the hug but leaving his hand on Peter’s bicep, “What’s the occasion? ‘Cause I know for a fact that our anniversary isn’t until October.”

Peter shrugs, “It’s kind of a Pride Month thing? But also because I wanted to give you a cake.”

“Well, I can’t say I don’t appreciate it.” He picks up the box and flips it open again, “What flavor is this? Smells like vanilla.”

“That would be because it’s vanilla flavored.”

“Hey, don’t snark me,” Johnny says, cocking his hip, “Or else I won’t let you have any.”

The  _ audacity _ of this man. “I made it for you! That means I get cake rights!”

“You get no rights when you sass me, Parker.”

Peter doesn’t know why he puts up with this. He could be in a relationship where he gets respect and the other person  _ cares  _ about him, but instead he chose this dumpster fire human. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey, matchstick,” Peter says, “I think I just saw a blimp outside your window.”

“Why would I care about a blimp?” Johnny asks as he looks out the window.

“You wouldn’t,” Peter says, grabbing a handful of the cake and taking a bite out of it.

Johnny gasps, “You  _ heathen _ ! You absolute demon child! Who raised you? You know what, actually? I know who raised you. She would never allow this. You’ve strayed from the path of light, Peter. This is the kind of shit that people break up over.”

Peter laughs, and immediately chokes on the cake in his mouth. Johnny rolls his eyes and moves to his bed, grabbing the glass of water he keeps on his night stand and handing it to Peter. 

Recovering from his near death experience, Peter jokes, “Cake’s good.”

“Oh, is it?” Johnny asks, taking a handful himself and trying it, “You’re right, it is good. I’m surprised—didn’t know you could cook.”

Peter lets out an offended  _ hmph _ , grabbing another bit of cake and smearing it across Johnny’s face. 

Johnny gapes, “I  _ know _ you did not just do that.”

Peter smirks like the cat who caught the canary.

Johnny narrows his eyes and slathers cake over Peter’s forehead, Lion King style.

“Ohoho,” Peter says, “It’s on.”

Johnny quickly moves the box out of Peter’s reach when he grabs at it, taking a bit of it for himself and lobbing it at Peter’s chest.

Peter looks down at the mass of colorful frosting and cake bread on his chest before looking at Johnny with his eyebrows almost at his hairline. He shoots a web at the box and snatches it out of Johnny’s grip.

“Ha!” he says, throwing a large chunk at Johnny’s hair.

Gaping, Johnny put his hands in his hair, lip curling when he feels the mess of frosting. “My hair,” he whispers, stricken, “My glorious hair! I will avenge you.”

Did Johnny just talk to his hair? Peter decides to ignore it in favor of throwing more cake at him.

Johnny pounces on Peter, seizing the cake and spreading a good deal of it throughout Peter’s hair. Peter shrieks and wiggles to get Johnny off of him, but Johnny doesn’t budge. They both know that Johnny would be sprawled across the floor if Peter really wanted him off of him, but Peter was, admittedly, having fun with this juvenile food fight.

Peter’s shrieks morph into laughter, his shoulders shaking. Johnny joins him, and they collapse into a heap of cake and limbs on the floor. 

Peter finally gets a good breath and looks up at Johnny, who is still on top of him. That breath is immediately taken from him. Johnny is  _ glowing. _ Not in the way that he actually does sometimes, what with his flames and all, but in the way that a child who has just been told he’s going to Disney World would. He’s glowing in the way that makes everything around him seemingly pause, the only relevant thing in the whole entire world being him and his laughter. Johnny’s eyes crinkle at the corners, wet with the force of his joy. Peter’s always found it adorable that he’s one of those people who will cry-laugh. His nose scrunches up and Peter’s heart turns into a marshmallow roasting on an open fire: melty and gooey beyond repair. 

Peter can’t help reaching up and pulling Johnny’s head down to meet his, their lips meeting with a surprised  _ hmm!  _ from Johnny who immediately relaxes into the kiss. His hands are still threaded through Peter’s hair, so he just pulls Peter closer to himself. Peter’s hands can’t seem to decide where they want to be, gripping different parts of Johnny until he settles on cradling his head with one hand and resting the other on the middle of his back. 

Johnny removes his lips from Peter’s and licks a stripe up the side of his face that he’d smushed cake on earlier.

“Eww, gross!” Peter honest to God  _ giggles _ —which, when did he become the type to giggle?—as he leans away from Johnny and into the floor.

Johnny pulls back and clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “Mm, vanilla.” He says, before re-capturing Peter’s lips with his own. 

A loud knock on the door followed by the creak of it opening causes them to jump apart.

“Hey Johnny– oh!” Sue Storm takes one look at their cake-covered faces, breaks down in laughter, snaps a pic on her phone, and leaves. Peter can hear a muffled cry of “Reed, you have to see this!” coming from down the hall. 

Peter and Johnny, once again, get lost in their laughter.

“I love you,” Peter gasps, “I really, really love you.”

Peter’s heart skips a beat when Johnny looks at him Like That. And by that he means that Johnny looks at him like he’s the universe—like he’s  _ Johnny’s _ universe—and, God, isn’t that a thought? The depth of his gaze transcends language. It’s something that can’t be said, only felt. And, boy, does Peter feel it.

“I really, really love you, too. I love you so much, Peter. So, so much.”

Peter smiles—no teeth, but a whole lot of emotion—and says, “Happy Pride, Johnny.”

Johnny places his hand on Peter’s jaw before kissing him within an inch of his life.

“Happy Pride,” He whispers, breathless. 

Peter responds by tugging him back down. Johnny doesn’t resist one bit.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! feel free to drop a kudos and a comment!
> 
> happy pride month!
> 
> come hang out with me on [tumblr!](https://soperiso.tumblr.com)


End file.
